The Research Subject

I'll never forget the first handshake. I gripped his hand, stared into his pupils and thought, without any idea why, "Here's the man who's going to destroy me." I thought I caught a hint of a smirk from him; oh how little I knew then.

I had worked my ass off through a CSU undergrad program, MS and PhD from Berkeley and four years in the lab to become a semi-respected biologist. He had shown up, his reputation preceding him. Revered already on his first day. I had been doing fine before he came along.

He seemed to regard me with clinical disdain. I wondered if he was from the Tim Hunt school of thought regarding men and women together in STEM careers. Not the falling in love part. I wondered if he thought I would spend half the day crying and the other half worshiping him the way our superiors seemed to.

We were put together on a team of scientists studying a rare virus and working to develop a vaccine. This forced him to talk to me, daily. The coolness remained. I told him one day that he reminded me of a young Jeff Goldblum. Without a hint of irony, he looked up from the specimens he was studying and said, "I guess you look slightly like Geena Davis". He never acknowledged my contributions to the work, yet accepted accolades from our superiors, which made me furious.

Over time, however, the brilliant scientist showed a couple of faint cracks. He was slightly absent-minded, and would forget items - his coffee cup, a pen, his badge - in the employee break room. I would retrieve these and walk them back to him. He'd grunt a brief "Thanks" - if that - and return to his work.

He was also completely socially stunted and, at conferences would loom in the corner of a room while I networked. I found talking to others to be effortless. I had always prided myself on being able to find common ground with almost anyone. Yet I couldn't find my way with him.

One afternoon I was preparing to leave for the day and was looking forward to joining my colleagues for happy hour after work. He slipped out, as usual. It wasn't until several minutes later when I saw it.

His wallet. Next to a microscope. Left behind. Oh shit.

Not knowing his number, I slid out his driver's license and studied the address. It was near my house.

I told my colleagues I'd catch up with them in a bit and they responded brightly with "See you soon!"

I anticipated the disinterested, detached biologist when he answered the door. Who greeted me instead was an man in a white undershirt and jeans and a hint of a five o clock shadow. Wow, I never realized he was hot, I thought to myself.

His appearance was not the only thing different. "Hi there. I wondered when you'd show up", he purred.

Excuse me?

"I believe you have something of mine..." He reached for the wallet. When I offered it, he grabbed me by the arm, tossed the wallet aside and drew me in close.

Placing his lips next to my ear, he whispered, "I left it for you to find, you know..." My heart raced. Had he been drinking? The thought of being alone, in the home of a man I barely knew, terrified me.

He continued. "I'm so glad you came. I've been studying you, learning what you like. And I know you like the same things I do, don't you?" Before I could question this, he tilted my head and kissed me, firmly, almost violently.

Oh, that. Yes. Yes, I did.

Before I could process what was happening, his hand traveled up my shirt and, receiving my wordless approval, he stuck his fingers into the cup of my bra and yanked it down. He found my nipple, and began to pinch and pull on it as if to punish me.

I moaned. He lifted my top and sucked on my aureolas, biting them slightly.

I was wet and he knew it. He walked me into the bedroom, bent me over the side of the mattress, and yanked my pants down past my knees.

He forced my face down into the bed and ordered me to spread. When I did, I felt fingers exploring my pussy, entering, as he sucked and flicked his tongue against my clit.

Oh God, don't stop

I was close. So close. Denying me release, he pulled away, for a second, then entered. His cock filled me. He was a beast. My moans continued. "I thought you'd like that, you little whore," he taunted.

He smacked my ass. Once, twice, three times, leaving a hand-shaped red mark.

Then he found my clit again, and fingered me, quickly, until I could do nothing but surrender.

He pulled out, tossed me on my back on the bedspread, and ordered me to open my mouth. I throated him, hungrily, until he once again pulled away, cumming all over my face and chest.

Happy hour would have to wait for some other time.